Bittersweets
by Libris
Summary: Oneshot There are only five kisses Alucard remembers. Slightly crackish.


**Bittersweets (V2.0)**_  
**Series**: _Hellsing_  
**Pairing(s)**: _Alucard**x**Integra, mentions of vague Pip**x**Seras, onesided Dracula**x**Mina Harker, and Anderson, who's a warning by himself._  
******Rating:** _PG-13ish_**  
****Description**: _There are only five kisses Alucard remembers.  
**NOTES**: **Completely rewritten!** The first version suffered from an acute case of pointless rambling and some uber OOC fluff on Alucard's part. Oops.

** Disclaimer**: Only torturing Alucard fer a bit, will return him to Kohta Hirano via UPS as soon as possible (IE, Hellsing does not belong to me and I am only writing this for my and others entertainment)

As always, any comments are appreciated! ;D

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**Bittersweets**

Alucard got around in life (an advantage of being a count), as well as in death (the advantage of being a vampire). He's known, slept with, and sometimes killed, more faceless men and women then he can put a thin finger on, much less name. He doesn't have enough of a concept of feelings to consider the fact he remembers five kisses distinctly romantic, but they stand out like brands in his mind.

That first one is nothing but a memory now. A bitter parting gift from the beautiful woman who helped stop his uncontrollable spread through London. A brief, dry press of lips against a forehead beneath dark, dark curls. And then Mina pulled away, following Abraham Helsing through the basement door, back into the light, and leaving Alucard (except he wasn't 'Alucard' quite yet, was he?) to rot. She never did look back. He doesn't know why he remembers that kiss more clearly than her retreating back, but the fact occasionally knaws the vampire when he's feeling particularly nostalgic.

And after almost a hundred years (wasn't it fantastic how much action he got these days?), the next pair of lips he received is not quite so uncomfortable to remember, and was from, not surprisingly, Integra, who was young, drunk, and considerably lonely. With their occupation, that wasn't surprising either, and although one of the nameless uniforms would have been a better recipient for messy teenage hormones, Alucard made an all too willing one. It wasn't often the vampire had an armful of squirming platinum that wasn't going to remember anything in the morning - so, he took advantage of the situation. The one problem is he has never been able to explain to himself why he didn't do more than just _snog_ the poor girl.

That third kiss came from Seras Victoria, which had been... surprising. Alucard isn't often without a jibe or a biting reaction, but with a peck to the cheek and a half-asleep 'G'night', the Undead King had found himself relatively wordless. Had his police-girl been more than slightly awake at the time, considering the exhausting day of chasing repugnant and persistent ghoulies, he might've questioned her sanity. He's considered teasing Pip about it, occasionally, and he doesn't know why he never gets around to it.

The last man on earth who he had expected - or had a right to do so - unconventionally stole number four. The normally unflappable Alucard remembers the moment with sense of surreally - they had danced around each other for so long, always _just_ avoiding a final showdown. And then his Judas Priest was flat on his back in a pool of red, red, drowning from the inside out, and staring down at him, Alucard had felt... empty. He'd then sat next to his fallen enemy, more sentinel than deadly evil. They hadn't talked. Anderson had no more words, at least, none appropriate or that weren't riddled with now-meaningless damnations, and Alucard never had any that weren't sharp jibes or bragging. And then the Holy Man had choked, blood dribbling from mouth down his cheek and chin, and his minutes could've been counted on a single hand as Alucard leaned over, placing cold kisses on each of the fallen priest's eyelids. The look that Anderson had fixed on his vampire afterwards as he faded had been as confusing as the contradictions fusing and swimming in Alucard's head.

The fifth is conceivably his own fault. He doesn't carry his bloodlust around Integra anymore because his master never resists a jibe - and Alucard has had enough silver words and silver bullets to last his unrest. But it was particularly bad... and she had been in some kind of freakish playful mood. And as good as his memory is, the vampire can't explain the gap between the point were they'd been exchanging sarcastic hits inches from one another to the point he had her pressed firmly into the couch. From there it spiraled down to something considerably more than just a kiss, but Integra wasn't drunk this time and she certainly wasn't just craving attention, and she was definitely going to remember it in the morning. And it was weird - _toodamnfast_ and too damn _confusing_. Nothing like the emptiness he's used to feeling, and far too close to a sensation of warmth he's half-forgotten through the wet blood and gravedirt. More befuddling than anything else is that he has the distinct feeling it's the start of... _something_ he doesn't quite have a word for. Alucard is not human, and while he does understand concepts like love and romance well enough in his own undead, distant way, even if he is sick and freaking twisted, they seem far too wrong when applied to the situation. But, his shattered common sense does nag him afterwards about it. He's gotten a lot more protective of his master after The Incident. He can't explain why. He doesn't want to explain why.

He isn't the reminiscing type, but he thinks about Mina when it's too dark outside, and no moon shines, Seras when the sun is far too damn bright, and his buried priest when the rain falls hard and old aches throb in long dead bones. Bittersweet like the rare murder he doesn't feel like committing, or the opponent who would've been so damn good if they'd just _let go_.

Alucard never sits and thinks about Integra anymore. It's difficult enough to wind his way through his own insanity when his actions don't even make sense to himself - and hard to feel nostalgic about someone who has your back pressed firmly into the bedsheets and has a mouth on your neck.

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**Post Babble**: I kind of wanted to capture Alucard's feelings on the subject of five people that more or less make up who he is. I relatively ignored the Anderplant, despite it's awesomeness, and left out Walter, but I promise to amend this latter problem with another drabble sometime in the future.

And Integra totally tops. Ye know it.


End file.
